A white woman's view of Black History Month

By VICKI MEYER Guest Columnist

Published: Saturday, February 2, 2013 at 1:00 a.m.

Last Modified: Friday, February 1, 2013 at 11:27 p.m.

For the last several years, I've been participating in Black History Month at a multiracial elementary school in Sarasota. I'm asked to read and discuss a book about black history with young students at the school.

In 1960, Ruby Bridges became the first black child to attend an all-white
elementary school in the South. Her story is told in a children's book.
PHOTO / RUBYBRIDGESFACTS.COM

The school provides books for the volunteers to read or, if we prefer, we can bring our own. I prefer to bring my own. Over the years, I've bought many books about black history and checked out even more from the children's sections of libraries. I've become quite an expert of sorts.

After reading these books, it dawned on me, slowly at first, that they are not only about black history but white history, too. The books tell the stories of many struggles for racial justice fought by courageous black people, and how so many white people aggressively resisted these changes.

There were courageous white people struggling for racial justice, too, but certainly not enough of them. If there had been, we would not have been in the mess that we were in then -- and are still in today.

One of my favorite books -- "The Story of Ruby Bridges" by Robert Cole -- tells the story of Ruby, the first black child to attend an all-white elementary school in the South.

As soon as Ruby entered William Frantz Public School in New Orleans on that first day of integration, all but three white parents went in and took their own children out.

Since the teachers at the school refused to teach a black child, the school hired Barbara Henry, a teacher from Boston, to teach Ruby. For most of that first year, she was the only child in the classroom.

Ms. Henry taught her just as she would have taught a classroom full of children. Although a small number of white parents began bringing their children back to the school, Ruby was kept isolated in a classroom with only her teacher. Neither one ever missed a day of school.

What first-graders feel

While reading "The Story of Ruby Bridges" to first-graders, I ask them how they think Ruby felt being the only student in her classroom. "Sad" and "lonely" are the words most often used.

I then ask how they think the other first-graders might have felt -- the white ones who were kept home from school by their parents. The first-graders usually just look around, waiting for someone else to respond. They seem not to have a clue.

No matter what racial group these young people belonged to, they identified with Ruby and easily understood how she might have felt. They could not understand how the white first-graders felt, let alone their parents.

Of course, at their young age, these first-graders have not yet been taught about racism. So it's understandable that they could not know what the white children felt or why their parents kept them home from school. What could possibly be so terrible about having them sit alongside black children in the classroom? What did the white parents think would happen?

At my age -- I'm 74 -- I still have trouble understanding this myself, and I lived through those times.

Understanding history

I sometimes wonder what I would have done if I had been a parent in New Orleans, rather than in Chicago, in 1960.

As a white parent, would I have braved the lines of angry white parents and brought my children to school? Or would I, like most of the white parents, have kept my children home because I feared for their safety?

I certainly hope I would not have been one of those parents the federal marshals were sent there to protect Ruby from. If my socialization had been very different from what it was, I might well have been.

Every so often, I hear suggestions that we should do away with Black History Month and black studies and just study "human" history. That might be good idea sometime in the future but certainly not now. There is much work that needs to be done before our history books can truly be called "human" history.

History books and history classes should help us understand the whats and whys of our past. To do this, they must expand to include the struggles and accomplishments of all those who worked for social justice. They should also help us understand what motivated those who actively opposed it. And to be complete, they need to include the majority of people who seemingly stood by and did nothing.

If our history books included all this, maybe then we would be able to realize our nation's promise of equality for all -- and maybe then we would no longer have a need for a Black History Month.

<p>For the last several years, I've been participating in Black History Month at a multiracial elementary school in Sarasota. I'm asked to read and discuss a book about black history with young students at the school.</p><p>The school provides books for the volunteers to read or, if we prefer, we can bring our own. I prefer to bring my own. Over the years, I've bought many books about black history and checked out even more from the children's sections of libraries. I've become quite an expert of sorts.</p><p>After reading these books, it dawned on me, slowly at first, that they are not only about black history but white history, too. The books tell the stories of many struggles for racial justice fought by courageous black people, and how so many white people aggressively resisted these changes.</p><p>There were courageous white people struggling for racial justice, too, but certainly not enough of them. If there had been, we would not have been in the mess that we were in then -- and are still in today.</p><p>One of my favorite books -- "The Story of Ruby Bridges" by Robert Cole -- tells the story of Ruby, the first black child to attend an all-white elementary school in the South.</p><p>As soon as Ruby entered William Frantz Public School in New Orleans on that first day of integration, all but three white parents went in and took their own children out.</p><p>Since the teachers at the school refused to teach a black child, the school hired Barbara Henry, a teacher from Boston, to teach Ruby. For most of that first year, she was the only child in the classroom.</p><p>Ms. Henry taught her just as she would have taught a classroom full of children. Although a small number of white parents began bringing their children back to the school, Ruby was kept isolated in a classroom with only her teacher. Neither one ever missed a day of school.</p><p>What first-graders feel</p><p>While reading "The Story of Ruby Bridges" to first-graders, I ask them how they think Ruby felt being the only student in her classroom. "Sad" and "lonely" are the words most often used.</p><p>I then ask how they think the other first-graders might have felt -- the white ones who were kept home from school by their parents. The first-graders usually just look around, waiting for someone else to respond. They seem not to have a clue.</p><p>No matter what racial group these young people belonged to, they identified with Ruby and easily understood how she might have felt. They could not understand how the white first-graders felt, let alone their parents.</p><p>Of course, at their young age, these first-graders have not yet been taught about racism. So it's understandable that they could not know what the white children felt or why their parents kept them home from school. What could possibly be so terrible about having them sit alongside black children in the classroom? What did the white parents think would happen?</p><p>At my age -- I'm 74 -- I still have trouble understanding this myself, and I lived through those times.</p><p>Understanding history</p><p>I sometimes wonder what I would have done if I had been a parent in New Orleans, rather than in Chicago, in 1960.</p><p>As a white parent, would I have braved the lines of angry white parents and brought my children to school? Or would I, like most of the white parents, have kept my children home because I feared for their safety?</p><p>I certainly hope I would not have been one of those parents the federal marshals were sent there to protect Ruby from. If my socialization had been very different from what it was, I might well have been.</p><p>Every so often, I hear suggestions that we should do away with Black History Month and black studies and just study "human" history. That might be good idea sometime in the future but certainly not now. There is much work that needs to be done before our history books can truly be called "human" history.</p><p>History books and history classes should help us understand the whats and whys of our past. To do this, they must expand to include the struggles and accomplishments of all those who worked for social justice. They should also help us understand what motivated those who actively opposed it. And to be complete, they need to include the majority of people who seemingly stood by and did nothing.</p><p>If our history books included all this, maybe then we would be able to realize our nation's promise of equality for all -- and maybe then we would no longer have a need for a Black History Month.</p><p>Vicki Meyer lives in Sarasota.</p>